A Guide To Becoming A Teenage Hipster

Step [6]: Girl, You Better Drink That Vodka.

CHAPTER SIX: YOUVE BEEN DRINKING LIKE THE WORLDS GONNA END

    “WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” I ask shell shocked, as I stare at the guy who had told me less that twelve hours ago that he never wanted to see me again.

    “Look...Jacinta is it?” Blondie says, as he runs a tanned and veiny hand through his messy hair, which was- surprise, surprise- blonde.

   “Cinta.” I mutter irritably as I step closer to Blondie. “Look, why are you here? Im a little confused.”

   “Ahhh! Im sorry dude. Last night I was gone, you know?” he says, giving me a sheepish look as I roll my eyes.

    Yes I know. You lied to me saying you had a car and then confessed your undying hatred towards me afterwards. ‘Gone’ is an understatement.

    “Anyway.” He continues, revealing a gap between his two front teeth as he gives me a full blown smile. “You didn't tell me you were Tyler Waterford's, swim assistant. That’s kinda why I’m here.”

    “What, you want an autograph? One of Tyler’s fans are you? His fan base in Winthrop is quite impressive... ” I drift off, instantly bored of the conversation now that a certain someone was the main subject.

    “No actually. Did he tell you that Winthrop has four elite swimmers?”

    “Yeah. Victoria Beckham there, lying in a pool of his own vomit is one of them.” I smirk, cocking my head towards Tyler’s car, where he lay in a vodka coma.

    “Correct. Well, for your information. Im one of them too.” He says proudly, and I could almost see his blue shirt expand as he puffed out his chest. Almost.

    “Great. Another swim freak.” I groan.

    I don’t particularly love swimming, nor did I hate it. But I was scared of the deep end and my fingers got wrinkly after I stayed a half hour in the water. And the smell of chlorine always reminded me of the time Dada enrolled me in swimming lessons, and the instructor pushed me into the deep end on my first day. His explanation was that I needed to face my fears, ‘head on’. 

   Asshole.

    “Haha, come on! Any other girl would be honored to hang out with even one swimmer, let alone two.” Blondie smirks as he steps closer to me. I become increasingly aware of my purple bathrobe at this point in time. He raked his blue eyes over my attire, tilting his head to the side and giving my a steamy smirk.

    Day-um.

    Blondie comes even closer, this time the fluff of my bathrobe was brushing on his blue shirt. He surprisingly smelled nice, considering the amount of sweat that had evacuated  from his body no less than a few hours ago.

    “The name’s Patrick.” He murmurs in my ear, his warm breath slightly blowing a few strands of my blonde hair from my messy bun.

    “Great. Listen Pat, ever heard of personal space? I’m pretty sure you could have told me that a few meters away.” I say, gently pushing his chest back, immediately regretting the urge I had to touch him. 

    Control your hormones woman!

    “Why, do I affect you?” He grins, stepping back and throwing his head back as he barked a loud laugh. It was really quite attractive.

    “Do you really just use the same lines that every cocky male does? Seriously dude. Its called originality, and I suggest you go to the nearest library, sit your ass down and learn the term.” Pushing away Blondie, or Patrick or whatever that thing standing there was, I walk towards Tyler’s car in a huff.